When you're dead, you're dead When you don't laugh anymore, it's 'cause you're not alive anymore When I have cut the string Put me in with the rubbish Let me stale over for a month And from there toss me to the cat Who'll refuse my liver and my spleen But choose the hour from which he'll eat my heart And yet I am with you On your shoulders, and on your knees May I be, because one must carry on. The Cat from the Café des Artistes
And if the bread runs out I'll be there, you needn't hesitate Break my paws and my neck And then eat me, the cat, as well.
It wouldn't be the first time That one eats an artist.
When you're dead, you're dead When you don't laugh anymore, it's 'cause you're not alive anymore When I have cut the string Put me in with the rubbish.
And then they'll forget me there There there there.... Like they've forgotten the cat Like they've forgotten my head and my songs
It wouldn't be the last time That they forget an artist
When you're dead, you're dead When you don't laugh anymore, it's 'cause you're not alive anymore When I have cut the string Put me in with the rubbish.
And then they forget me there There there there....